State of Awareness
by Sigyn Holmes Laufeyson
Summary: Sherlock always invades one's space. John usually doesn't mind, and on a taxi ride home late one night after an exhausting case, John really doesn't mind. Not so long as he is comfortable. Simple Johnlock one-shot, short enough to be considered drabble. Just something sweet :)


**I just got home after spending a night out with one of my best friends, my mom, and little brother at a symphony concert. On the drive home my best friend and I got really tired so I ended up reclining against his shoulder/chest and totally invading his space in other various ways (propping my feet up on his lap, putting my head on his shoulder as I texted some people, etc). Thinking about that led me to this Johnlock one shot… So, enjoy :)**

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John exhaled deeply as he slid into the cab right behind Sherlock. It was half past 1 in the morning and they were both exhausted from that long case they'd been on all day long. John settled down into his seat, head turning to the left as he watched the buildings pass by. Sherlock was fidgeting in the seat next to him, apparently trying to get comfortable but, for whatever reason, was failing to achieve that. John made note of that in his mind, but honestly was too tired to really give it any thought.

That is, of course, until Sherlock's head crashed onto his shoulder.

John started slightly, but tried not to jump too much as he didn't want to snap Sherlock's neck. Instead, he twisted his head around and stared at the clump of dark, curly hair that was resting upon his shoulder. "Um, Sherlock? What are you doing?"

"'M tired…" was the drowsy and near-incoherent reply.

John shifted ever so slightly. Sherlock's head had inconveniently decided to settle right on the bony part of his shoulder, and therefore was incredibly uncomfortable. "Well, that can't exactly be comfortable, can it? What with you bending in such an awkward way and all," he mentioned, attempting to get Sherlock to move.

"'M fine…" came the once again incoherent reply.

John sighed. His eyes were drooping with drowsiness, and he could hear in Sherlock's voice that his friend was burned out as well, which was quite the event to occur (Sherlock Holmes, tired, wanting to sleep). After the subtlest of fidgeting ensued, John finally tried to suggest something to Sherlock in an attempt to keep them both comfortable with this space-invasion-arrangement. "Sherlock, look, get off."

A muffled grunt of protest.

"No, look, really, you're right on the boniest part of my shoulder and since it's bothering me I want you to get off so we can readjust."

"Acromion," was the only thing Sherlock said.

John gave a grunt of frustration in the back of his throat. "Yes, 'acromion'. Are you even listening to me?"

Sherlock heaved a deep, exasperated sigh and dragged himself off of John's shoulder and into an upright seating position. Glaring at John, he turned away crossly and stared pointedly out the window.

John could only roll his eyes at Sherlock's typical childish behavior. "Oi," he said, tugging lightly at Sherlock's arm. "I said readjust, not get off altogether." Gently he pulled Sherlock towards his chest so Sherlock was reclining against him, back of his head against John's clavicle and hair tickling the side of his neck. John could feel by the muscles in Sherlock's back that he was unsure of what to think of this new positioning, but eventually the muscles relaxed and he almost snuggled back into John's chest, sighing contently.

John's right hand came up to tangle and twist and play with Sherlock's hair as he fell into half unconsciousness. Unexpectedly, at the softest of tugs from John's fingers in his hair, Sherlock made the tiniest squeak of surprise and pleasure. In any other state of awareness, John wouldn't have known what to make of the sound, likely would have been startled by it, possibly even scared off. But then again, in any other state of awareness, John wouldn't be caressing Sherlock so gently and Sherlock wouldn't be so comforted by the steadiness of John's beating heart.

Instead, both their breathing patterns dipped in speed and together they fell asleep for the rest of the drive home, hands entwined and exhaustion taking over as they dreamed of endless nights in the arms of one another.


End file.
